


Set Schedule

by Plus3Charisma



Category: Avengers Academy (Video Game), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Character Study, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 09:12:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12078060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plus3Charisma/pseuds/Plus3Charisma
Summary: Tony wakes up to the smell of lavender. It was warm and inviting, teasing him to lean in farther, like the flowers were dancing across his face trying to wake him. Opening his eyes to bright yellow hair leaning softly against his shoulder.





	Set Schedule

God what time is it.

It was the first thing that came to mind when Tony woke up, his eyes barely open and the room barely lit by the evening sun peaking in through the window. God what day was it. He wanted to turn his head and look at the clock or find his phone or something.

But his nose tickled, his senses taken over by the scent of lavender. Staring upwards he was definitely looking at the ceiling of his dorm room, and not passed out in a field of purple flowers.

Looking down he saw bright yellow, the few rays poking through the blinds lighting up Steve’s hair where it rested on Tony’s shoulder. The slow steady breath he let out rustled the locks gently, only serving to envelope Tony in more of that floral scent, almost teasing him.

Steve.

These last few months, the whole school year really, so far hadn’t been easy. The never ending battles, one after another, and another. On top of normal school work, and hero training, and inventing new suits, even staying on top of research in case they need it for the next thing that attacks them. It was what Tony imagined hell would be like. A never ending cycle of all work and no play, barely having time to move forward before he’s interrupted by something ten or twenty times more puzzling and harder to put up with.

But lately it seemed to be getting better. For all that Tony got on Steve about his nagging, he did pull Tony into a sort of schedule. And that alone seemed to help him through these days where there was too much to do and not enough hands to do it with or hours to get it done. It started off simple enough, everyone on campus knew that Steve ran around the track every single morning at a time that Tony still wasn’t 100% sure existed. It was in that strange hazy period between when Tony was working off the last of his late-night inventing mojo and just before he was about to drop dead of exhaustion.

Any sane person would be asleep, and no one believes Tony when he says that Steve is an absolute madman. So Steve, spotting Tony on his way to the dorms, about to go to bed, insists that he join Steve for his run, that it will be good for him and start his day off right. And Tony, walking more like a zombie with his arms heavy and head drooping, than an actual functioning human being, can’t comprehend what the hell this crazy person is talking about. Who the hell actually runs?

And because no response is apparently as good as a yes when it comes to exercising with Steve, Tony is forced to tag along. His brain can’t kick on, he’s stuck following orders and doesn’t have the where-with-all to actually force his brain to start making neural connections; he was past that point an hour and a half and 2 cups of coffee ago.

Tony still can’t honestly remember much about that run other than his muscles still having phantom pains when he thinks about it, and his lungs trying to burn him alive from the inside out. That he could have handled fine, he would have just gone back to his room, slept it off and skipped his lab with Professor Pym. Then when he woke would lick his wounds and swear off running forever. But the smug look on Steve’s face as he was obviously holding himself back, gently running alongside Tony without breaking a sweat. That was what made Tony want to keel over and let the SHIELD scientists scrap him for parts.

“It gets easier the more you do it.” Steve had said, “You should join me every morning.”

The very thought of running every single morning still makes Tony want to gag. But once or twice a week when he thinks he can handle his ego taking the beating isn’t too bad. And he has actually gotten better at this whole long distance endurance thing. And he knows Steve isn’t the kind of guy to wave an “I told you so” in his face, but he knows he’d at least get that smug grin Steve always has when he knows he was right. So Tony keeps it to himself.

He knows Steve can run circles around him, lap him six ways to Sunday, and throw in an Olympic gold winning gymnastics routine for good measure. But Tony is silently grateful for the slower and steadier pace Steve keeps beside him, keeping a conversation once Tony was able to run and not feel like he was getting a hernia after 20 feet.

Tony is an observant guy, even if others will disagree. He has seen the guy run, hell he marvels at the way Steve moves. It’s how he is able to see the obvious bounce in Steve’s step as he runs beside him, the soldier’s body having a lot more energy to burn than he is at such a slow pace, especially compared to the days Tony doesn’t join him. And there’s a part of Tony that feels like he is a bother, his insecurities poking through when he least wants them to. He starts thinking that maybe he shouldn’t get in the way of Steve’s training and should stop joining him for runs.

But then Steve joins him in the library, their books open across the table, notes scattered, and Steve’s voice filling the air as they discuss whatever topic they chose for that day. Avengers Academy is nothing if not hectic and in a constant state of total disarray, so no one says anything as the two sit at their designated table that is inexplicably always available. No one says anything when Steve’s sat at the computer and Tony is explaining the physics lesson that Professor Pym didn’t really teach, so much as mumbled to himself as he wrote on the board. And no one says anything when it’s Tony in front of the computer and Steve leans over, breath just above his ear and voice firm as he explains the grammar lessons.

If it were any other library in the world they would have almost definitely been asked to leave by now, as they often get carried away. They’re both stubborn and don’t see eye to eye on certain things, and they’re both passionate and get heated quickly. Tony thinks it’s because they’re so different, but Jan says it’s because they’re so alike. They get loud and obnoxious, not quite yelling but at the louder end of talking. And most of the time they only get reeled in by a vicious red head, clearing her throat from behind her textbooks from her seat on the other side of the main study area.

Out of habit maybe, they spend weekends together, sitting and talking in their dorm rooms, playing a game of pool or dancing at Club A, yelling about everything and anything and getting in each other’s faces because they’re both obnoxious and now know how to get on each other’s nerves. But the bite that was once there isn’t anymore. Instead it’s fond, like what Tony imagines most kids their age would do if not caught up in saving the world and in a normal high school. When they’ve been friends for far too long and have spent enough time in hundreds and hundreds of hours of class together to be able to make fun simply because they can and know it is without malice.

They spar together, hone their skills, and form a trust on the battlefield that is both carefully trained for and effortless all at the same time. It’s exhilarating and relieving to be able to rely on someone so entirely.

And they would lean against each other to the low hum of a movie, spending more time cracking jokes than actually watching. And they’re both either too exhausted to do anything about the breach of personal space, or are so used to one another now that they don’t mind.

Tony wasn’t sure if Steve noticed. He both slowly and all at once became every part of Tony’s day. In the mornings Steve would wait by Tony’s door so that they could walk to class together, because Tony was never ready to go as early as Steve was.

His afternoons were spent in the gym or in the lab, either training with Steve or…well, there was no real reason for Steve to be in the labs really but half of the time he seemed to be there, usually with no other reason than to talk with Tony. It would last either from 2 short minutes to hours spent together as Tony worked. Steve has gotten the hang of seamlessly moving in and out of the way as needed so he doesn’t interfere, or Steve is sat at a lab stool drawing. One or two times Tony has caught himself on the page, because “I’ve never seen anybody move with the same amount of energy as you do.”

His evenings were spent listening to the low hum of Steve’s voice over notes in the library, or his chuckling laugh as they played a game, or just sat around the dorms talking and talking.

Steve’s food would be right next to his as they ate together in the strange little mix and match food court area of the campus where weird and useless food stalls and carts seemed to gather while they were all too busy fending off the latest attack. And Steve’s hand would always be there to gently slap Tony’s away when he went in for the blonde’s food. “Tony, you don’t like mayo on your sandwiches, eat your own.” He wondered if Steve realized he knew what foods Tony liked.

He wondered if Steve realized Tony had fallen in love with him yet.

Closing his eyes again, Tony let out a soft breath. One that mimicked the gentle one he felt at his neck, just where the collar of his shirt ended. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but there’s a vague memory of a movie they had been watching while in Tony’s dorm. It had been harder to focus lately when he was with Steve, and now Steve seemed to be everywhere.

It was easy for tony to fall in love with Captain America. He had done that when he was just old enough to start building his own robots out of spare parts he salvaged around the house. His toddler bedroom was painted red, white, and blue, speckled with stars and stripes in honor of his hero. His younger self was inspired by the passion to do what was right, to stand up for those who couldn’t stand up for themselves, by the idea that as long as you stand by the ideals of justice and freedom, anyone can be a hero. It was a love that inspired him every day to become the person he is now. To become a hero even half as great as the one he admired so deeply.

But Steve wasn’t just Captain America. And yes, Tony still loved Captain America. But loving Steve was something entirely different to his boyish hero worship. And he vaguely wondered if anyone else knew the difference between the hardened and experienced Captain, and the gentle and sensitive young man that wore the costume. If anyone else had seen the softness in his face while he reads his favorite books. The small frown lines that form on his forehead when he doesn’t understand something. Or the fond look in his eyes while he is drawing someone he cares about, like every inch of his fondness for them is going through to his fingertips and onto the paper. And the way that Steve laughs until he tears up and gently presses his hand to his pecs when he finds something really funny, even if no one else is laughing.

He wondered if anyone else knew that Steve.

He could feel the weight of Steve’s arm against his chest, the others body warm enough to almost lull him back to sleep. And it would, not for the gentle breath still ghosting over his neck, in perfect rhythm with the feeling of Steve’s chest rising and falling against his own. His own heart skipping beats and he’s sure he wouldn’t have noticed the faulty rhythm if not for the steady and constant thrum of Steve’s against his stuttering chest.

So, rather than going back to sleep, he leans his head and presses his cheek against the golden locks, eyes closing as he leans into the warmth. He knows that if Steve were awake he would not have the confidence to lean against him like this, worried about the sting of rejection and loss of his closest friend should he get too close and too intimate. For all that Tony talks up about himself, stroking his own ego at every possible chance, he’s also acutely aware of how quickly he could mess up the greatest friendship he’s ever had.

Steve’s arm shifted, and the legs that were tangled with his own wound themselves together tighter. And Tony could swear he forgot how to breathe. He had never noticed the faint lavender scent that hung around Steve. It must be his shampoo.

He wondered if anyone else could smell it.

He opened his eyes again and stared up at the ceiling. He should probably move, check what time it is, see if his phone has any messages, if anyone’s been looking the two of them. But Steve was still fast sleep on Tony’s shoulder, and it took every ounce of discipline in him, that most would deny exists at all, to deny himself the enjoyment of this rare contact, and to wrap his arms around Steve entirely.

Tony, lost in his head, almost missed the blue eyes peering up at him.

“You think too loud.”

His heart wasn’t skipping beats now, because it stopped entirely. Yup. Tony’s definitely forgotten how to breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, this is my first fic in a very long time so I hope you all enjoy it. Please comment and all that because I'd love some feedback and ideas for more fics to write. <3


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